¡Pancho!
by Amy-Violet
Summary: Sam and Blaine have a silly disagreement, but don't worry. It ends well. Established, college Blam.


Sam is sitting in his intro to psychology class, wishing he'd been smart like Blaine and not scheduled any morning classes on Mondays. He really should be paying attention to the lecture, but it's super boring. He knows he shouldn't be texting, but he sort of can't help it.

 _What are you doing?_

 _Watching Marimar_ , comes Blaine's reply. _So sad!_

Sam smiles indulgently. Blaine's Spanish class watched like one episode of this telenovela in class first semester, and Blaine got hooked. He's watched the whole series a couple times through already.

 _Wait, aren't you in psych now?_ Blaine adds.

 _Technically_ , Sam texts back. _But I'd rather hear about Marimar._

 _I'll tell you when your class is over!_

 _C'mon! Please?_

 _No, Sammy! If you flunked out I'd miss you too much!_

 _Grr,_ Sam types back. He knows Blaine really is just looking out for him, but he wants to be distracted. And it's not like he's getting anything out of this lecture anyway. But he obediently puts his phone away and tries to listen to Professor McBoringpants for the rest of the hour.

He texts Blaine back as soon as class is over, before he's even out of the auditorium. _I was good and paid attention. Do I get a reward?_

In response Blaine sends him a short clip of his novela. It's not quite the reward Sam was thinking of, but it'll do until he gets back to the dorm. As other students rush past him he watches the video of a house burning. He's about to type a reply when another text from Blaine comes. _They burned her beach shack, Sammy!_

 _Poor Marimar!_ Sam texts back. He's proud of himself for remembering that that's the character's name and not just the title of the show.

 _I know! Her grandparents are inside! You can hear her grandma yell "Pancho!"_

 _Pancho means gay, right?_

 _No, lol._

 _Sure it does,_ Sam insists. _That's why everyone calls that gay Mexican guy from the 4th floor Pancho._

 _They call him that because it's his actual name. It's a nickname for Francisco. Also that guy's not gay._

 _He's totally gay._ Honestly, this is not even the first time Sam has had better gaydar than Blaine. He sometimes wonders if he's the totally gay one and Blaine is the one who's only bi.

 _No, lol._

 _Totally. And now San Francisco makes sense._

 _?_

 _Because its nickname is San Pancho which means Saint Gay Guy and also it rains a lot so people have to wear panchos._

Sam keeps an eye on the screen as he walks toward the exit. Finally Blaine texts back, _That's ponchos, sweetie_.

 _But they're both pronounced the same._

 _One is pan and one is pon._

 _In English I mean. They're both pronounced the same in English._

 _Sort of but not really._

 _Identical_ , Sam insists. He says them out loud to himself, earning some odd looks from other students. They're totally identical!

But Blaine just types back, _Nope._

What the hell! _They are! Unless you're one of those annoying English speakers who pronounces every a like the one in apple._ Sam never noticed Blaine having that annoying habit. He knows he has a tendency to overlook habits of Blaine's that other people might find annoying, but he's pretty sure this isn't one.

 _That's how it is!_ Blaine texts back.

Sam doesn't believe it though. _You're saying you pronounce the a in Pancho like the a in apple?_

 _Yup._

Sam tries to remember if he's ever heard Blaine say "Pancho," but he doesn't. He tries to imagine him saying it like "pancake," but with –cho at the end instead of –cake. No. Blaine wouldn't say it that way, he's sure of it. _Liar_ , he texts back.

 _Pancho, yes._

 _How about nada? Is that just like nads except for the last letter?_

 _Nah-dah_.

 _But not Pahn-cho?_

 _Yup._

 _Liar._

 _Nope._

 _I don't think Spanish even has an a sound like apple and nads._ That is, he hasn't had Spanish since high school, and that was with Mr. Schue, but still he knows _some_ stuff about it. He knows he's never heard a Spanish word that sound like "nads," for example.

 _Quit confusing me_ , Blaine texts.

 _How am I confusing you? You're the one taking college Spanish._

 _Whatever._

Wait, what does that mean? Blaine's not actually mad, is he? Sam thought they were mostly just joking around. He puts his phone away and cuts across the quad to the dorm. When he gets there he finds Blaine sitting on the bed, staring at his laptop with a pillow clutched to his chest. Sam asks him, "What does 'whatever' mean?"

"You know what 'whatever' means, Sam," Blaine answers, barely looking away from the screen. "It's not even Spanish."

"But does it mean you're mad at me?"

This gets Blaine to pause his show and look up. "What? No, of course not!"

"Okay. You're sure? Cause, I mean, your last text to me just said 'whatever,' and it kinda sounded like..."

"I'm sorry, Sammy!" He stretches his arm out and Sam steps across the room to take his hand. "I was just all wrapped up in _Marimar_...I mean, look!" He gestures at the paused jailhouse scene on his screen. "Marimar is in jail and then that pinche Angelica who had her shack burned down shows up to tell her that her grandparents are dead and—"

"And my texting was distracting you."

"Well...sort of. I mean, it was just at a really dramatic part at that moment...I'm sorry!"

"No, it's okay." Sam kicks his shoes off and drops his backpack on a chair. "I don't want to distract you at a dramatic part."

"You're so understanding!"

"Totally. Can I watch with you?"

"Of course! You want me to go back, or...?"

"No, it's fine."

Blaine scoots forward so Sam can sit with his back against the headboard. Then Blaine settles in between his legs and leans back against his boyfriend's chest. "Comfy?" he asks before restarting the video.

Sam wraps his arms around Blaine and rests his chin on his shoulder. "Totally comfy," he assures him. He loves Blaine like this. That is, he loves Blaine always, but when he's in the boxers and t-shirt he slept in, and his hair is all mussed, he just feels extra cozy somehow. And of course being in bed with Blaine never fails to put ideas in Sam's head—not that those ideas are ever too far off.

He tries to get into Blaine's novela. It's not like it's boring exactly—definitely not like his class earlier—but it's...like, he doesn't know what's going on, and he doesn't want to keep interrupting to ask Blaine to explain everything. And, well, there are those other ideas in his head now that are a lot more interesting.

He nuzzles Blaine's neck and strokes his chest until Blaine sighs contentedly. Then he lets his nuzzling turn to kissing. And he lets his hands start stroking under the t-shirt.

"Sam..." Blaine protests. But he doesn't make the slightest move away.

"Sorry," Sam says. "Am I distracting you again?"

"Yes!"

"Sorry." He puts his hands back on top of the t-shirt, and he's good for a while. He puts all the sexy thoughts right out of his head so Blaine can watch his show.

Of course, that just means that other stuff rushes in to fill the void, and before he can really help it he says to Blaine, "Say 'pancake.'"

"What? Why should I say 'pancake'?"

"Now say 'Pancho.'"

"Sam! You're not really on this again, are you?"

"They don't sound the same, Blaine!"

"Sammy!" Blaine groans. "If you insist on distracting me from _Marimar_ , at least do it the way you were a minute ago."

Sam smiles to himself. Okay, Blaine asked for it! He rubs Blaine's legs, starting at the knees and slowly moving upward and inward. Blaine is still looking at the laptop. He's trying not to react, Sam can tell, but his breathing gradually gets heavier. He gasps—just a little—when Sam's fingertips sneak up under one of the boxer legs.

Sam whispers in his ear, "So...just to clarify, you _don't_ want me to ask you to say 'Pancho' again, right?"

"Sammy!"

"Then how about you say 'nads' for me."

Blaine laughs. "That's about the least sexy—" And then he cuts himself off with a gasp, not an especially soft one this time, when Sam is suddenly tickling his balls. Sam's using a super light touch, and Blaine squirms, trying to rub himself harder against his boyfriend's hands.

"What are you doing, baby? You like me touching your nads?"

"Mmm..."

"If you like it, then tell me, 'I like you touching my nads, Sammy.'"

"No!"

"Oh, okay." Sam moves his hands so they're not quite on Blaine's nads anymore. "If you don't like it, I won't touch you there."

"I didn't say I didn't like it..."

"Shh! I'm trying to watch my stories."

Blaine squirms, but Sam manages to keep his hands firmly on his upper thighs. In the course of his squirming, Blaine's ass rubs against Sam's dick kind of a lot. Probably he's doing it on purpose.

"Sam, you're all hard," he says after some time.

Sam suspects Blaine is hard too, but he doesn't know for sure because he is being very careful not to touch. "Shh!" he repeats. "This is a good part."

Blaine lets out an exasperated sigh. "Fine! I like you touching me there!"

"There where?"

"Sam!"

"C'mon baby. Just say the word."

"Saaam! You're really gonna make me say it?"

"It's one word. Four little letters. One measly syllable."

Blaine rubs against him one last time before giving in. "Fine, nads! Nads, nads, nads! Are you happy now?"

"Very happy," Sam says, cupping Blaine's balls in his hand. He gently strokes Blaine's dick with the other hand and observes, "It seems like you're happy now too."

"Mmm." Blaine agrees.

Sam whispers in his ear, "You're really not going to try to tell me that that word you just said sounds anything like—" He can't even finish his sentence; Blaine is straddling him suddenly, silencing him with a kiss. And this is actually a lot more fun than teasing Blaine about pronunciation, so Sam kisses him back.

"Tell you what," Blaine says, grinding against him even as he shuts the laptop. "You let it drop and I'll let you fuck me."

"Deal!" Sam agrees without hesitation. He's not an idiot. Without moving Blaine off his lap or interrupting their kissing for more than a second or two he gropes around in the drawer of the bedside table for the lube. He finds it easily, of course—it's not like they ever go long enough without using it for other stuff to pile up on top of it—and squirts a generous amount on his fingers.

Blaine apparently trusts him not to bring up the Pancho thing again, because he's kissing his neck now. He moans when Sam's slick fingers slide inside his crack; he bites down a little when the first finger penetrates his hole.

Sam loves his boyfriend's ass. That is, he loves tons of things about Blaine, but he has to admit that, even if it makes him shallow or whatever, his ass is really high on the list. He'd be in constant physical contact with it if that were possible. Luckily, Blaine seems to like having stuff done to his ass as much as Sam likes doing that stuff. Soon Blaine is gasping and moaning and humping him like crazy. "Sammy, c'mon!" he pleads.

If they had all day, Sam would draw things out longer. They could have made out a lot longer before even getting to this point, for one thing. And he'd probably suck Blaine's dick, maybe make him come once before fucking him. Blaine likes having stuff done to his dick too, after all—as much as Sam likes doing that stuff.

But sadly they don't have all day. They both have classes right after lunch, which it's almost time for, and Blaine hasn't even showered yet.

"C'mon," Blaine asks again. "I want your cock in me."

"Then I guess we both need to lose some clothes." Sam especially—he's still fully dressed except for his shoes.

Blaine's on it, though. He scoots back just enough so he can lean forward and unbutton and unzip Sam's jeans for him. Sam no sooner lifts his hips to get his pants off than he feels his dick sucked up into Blaine's warm, eager mouth. "Oh, fuck," he mutters.

Blaine looks up at him and smiles. "Sorry. I was just right there and—"

"You don't _ever_ have to apologize for doing that," Sam tells him seriously.

"No?" Blaine asks. He pulls off Sam's jeans and both their underwear. "What if I wanna do other stuff to it? Would I have to apologize for that?"

"Other stuff? Such as?"

"Well, like say I wanted to sit on it? Say I wanted to hover over it..." He straddles Sam again and demonstrates. "And hold my cheeks apart..." He demonstrates this as well. "And just lower myself, just sink down on it so it slides right up into me? Would you want me to apologize if I did that?"

"Absolutely not," Sam assures him.

"Good." Blaine smiles again and kisses him. "Because that's exactly what I'm gonna do."

Sam holds his ass and kisses his neck, because that's pretty much all he's allowed to do at this juncture. He's most definitely not allowed to thrust yet, no matter how bad he wants to. (And he always wants to.) Blaine has explained that it's because Sam is so big and he needs time to adjust—which is no doubt true, as far as it goes. No matter how many times they do this, Blaine always feels unbelievably, impossibly tight. But Sam thinks there's also more to it. Namely, he thinks Blaine likes to torture him a bit.

Not that Sam actually minds being tortured in this way.

And so he holds still, as still as he possibly can, as first just the tip of his cock penetrates its target and, eventually, little by little, the shaft becomes fully engulfed in Blaine's hot, snug channel.

Blaine is so amazing while he's adjusting to his impalement. His lip crinkles, and he gets this look of intense concentration. And he hums to himself. Sam doesn't think he even realizes it—and he's never mentioned it because he thinks Blaine might be self-conscious about it if he knew—but he loves hearing it.

There's a gasp. The humming stops and Blaine gasps instead when he lowers himself the last little bit and Sam's cock is as deep as it will go. He gasps and goes, " _God,_ Sam."

Sam runs his fingers through Blaine's hair and says, "You're so beautiful."

"Ah!" Blaine's starting to gently ride Sam's cock now. "I could say the same—mm! I could say the same to you."

And they don't talk anymore then, as Blaine's riding becomes less and less gentle, as he starts lowering himself with more and more force each time he drops down. He can never get the angle exactly right when he's on top, but he always tries.

Soon he's humming again, though it's different this time, it's more of a whine. He sounds so needy, and God knows Sam needs more now too. Not being able to really move is killing him. "You ready, baby?"

"Not yet."

"You're not adjusted yet?"

"I'm adjusted. I just like seeing you like this."

Sam lets out a surprised huff. "Like what?"

"So desperate."

Oh, so Sam is desperate? Okay, yeah, he kinda is, but it's not very nice of Blaine to say so...to know and not help! Besides, it's not like he's the only one. Blaine's whining is getting totally desperate now.

Blaine continues to bounce on his cock, while Sam continues to use all his restraint not to flip him over and fuck the living daylights out of him—or to just come without even doing that, and before Blaine can.

It's eventually Blaine who gives in to what they both need. All he has to say is, "Sammy, please," and Sam lifts him and positions him on his hands and knees. The brief period of emptiness has Blaine whining and swaying his ass impatiently, until Sam is able to get on his knees behind him and slide his cock back inside that welcoming hole.

Sam really is desperate by this time, and so fucking Blaine without coming yet is super difficult. He can't, like, go slow or anything, because he knows Blaine needs it bad now, he needs it hard and he needs it fast and he needs Sam to just slam into his prostate over and over and over.

And so...Sam doesn't exactly use the mailman trick anymore, but at times like this he does try to sort of...think of something else. And what he thinks of is Blaine, and how he admitted to torturing Sam on purpose! And so his idea seems only fair.

He has a pretty good ear for when Blaine is about to come. He waits for the _ah-ah-ah_ that's just about to turn into a shout. That's when he usually turns it up to 11. Now, instead, he dials it back to 9.

"Sam?" Blaine asks, all confused. "What...?"

"You wanna come, baby?"

"Yes! What are you—"

"I want you to do something for me."

"What!?"

"Say 'Pancho.'"

"Sammy!"

"No, not 'Sammy.'" He dials it back to 8.

Blaine whines piteously, trying to rock backwards to make up for Sam's restraint. But soon enough he acquiesces. "Okay, okay! Pancho!"

"Oh, fuck, Blaine." Sam gives him the 11 he needs, the 11 they both need, and nails him full-force.

Blaine is full-on screaming now as his orgasm hits. "Fuck! Oh God! Pancho! Fuck, fuck, Pancho!"

And, oh Jesus, his ass is vibrating now, it's squeezing him so tight, and Sam can finally stop holding back, can finally shoot his load in a series of pulsating blasts, coating his gorgeous boyfriend's insides.

They collapse together on the sheets, a corner of the forgotten laptop poking at Sam's ribcage. It takes them a minute or two to catch their breath, and then Blaine shoves weakly at Sam's shoulder. "I can't believe you made me say that."

"Huh? Oh yeah, well...you deserved it."

"I did, huh? Well, all I can say is that you will pay for this."

Sam doesn't doubt this in the least.

They lie together quietly for several moments before Blaine asks, "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, did I say it like how you thought?"

Sam considers. He's forced to admit, "I have no idea."

"What!?"

"Blaine, I had my cock buried in your ass. We were both, like, seconds from coming. You can't expect me to be paying attention to your pronunciation at a time like that!"

Blaine whacks him with the pillow. "Now you're _really_ going to pay."

Later that afternoon, Sam returns from his chemistry class to see one of the guys from the room next door standing outside his dorm room. "Hey, Adrian," he says. "Everything okay?" It doesn't look like it. Adrian's got his arms crossed in front of him and he looks...worried? pissed off? Sam's not actually sure.

"I need to talk to you. Is your roommate around?"

And that right there is weird, because Adrian knows Blaine is his boyfriend, not just his roommate. And it's not like he's homophobic; Adrian is gay too. But Sam doesn't mention this, he just says, "No, he's in class. Did you want to talk to him too?"

"No, I do _not_."

"Okay. Do you wanna come in?" Sam unlocks the door, but Adrian shakes his head, so they just stand there in the hall.

"I thought you should know that I heard Blaine earlier today...I mean, I thought you two were just...but then he called someone _else's_ name..."

"Oh!" Sam feels himself blush, but he can't help but laugh too. "Pancho! Yeah, I know."

"You _know_ about Blaine and Pancho?" And then Adrian starts to cry, and Sam really doesn't know what to do.

"No," he explains. "Blaine was with me. I mean, I'm sorry we were too loud and everything, but we were just..." He ends up trying to explain the whole thing, which he realizes sounds incredibly stupid and embarrassing.

But Adrian seems really happy. When Sam finally finishes, Adrian says, "So it really had nothing to do with my Pancho?"

"No, like I...Wait, _your_ Pancho?"

"Yeah, you know. Pancho Patiño? Up on four? We're going out."

"I _knew_ that guy was gay!" Sam exclaims triumphantly.

"Yeah, well, not like it's a secret," Adrian says.

"No, of course not. Anyway, sorry. We'll try to keep it down." Sam opens his door, but before he goes in he has one last thought. "Hey, Adrian?"

Adrian's at his own door now, but he stops and goes, "Yeah?"

"When Blaine yelled 'Pancho'...how did he pronounce it?"


End file.
